blues, in the afternoon
by planet p
Summary: AU; sequel to "we make plans, our plans decide they have other plans". Sometimes, you've gotta let go, you've gotta say "goodbye". It ain't always easy, but it's necessary.
1. Chapter 1

**blues, in the afternoon** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

.

Lorraine wasn't such a mean, young thing, just protective, and perhaps a tad paranoid, as many were. And why not? In any case, a healthy dose of caution, if not paranoia, seemed to be the 'it' thing, these days. Caution wasn't nothing as bad as paranoia, people said. Caution was sensible, wise, levelheaded. So, on Fridays, when she couldn't get in (due to work) to watch the kids after school, she'd conceded that someone might as well keep an eye on them, and, as Joy was busy with her job, she couldn't watch them all the time.

Lorna, upon hearing this news, was ready with a big, big smile. Pryde, well, if her older sister was happy, she figured she ought well be to, not to spoil the mood. She looked up to Lorna a lot. Though Lorna pulled a face at the sight of it, sitting in her seat - she was _fourteen_! - Pryde couldn't have been more rapt to see Winnie in his bold red top waiting for her on the front seat. Lorna's toy was a big cat made of a material patterned with rainbows on a blue background; he had a big, warm smile. On his back, blue embroidered stitching read: _You are beautiful and unique, and deserve to be loved._

When Lorna ignored her cat and got in after her younger sister, Pryde picked up the toy and sat with both of the toys, tracing the writing with her finger, humming along with the song Lyle was humming, _You Always Hurt the One You Love_. She'd spent a long time practising _Strangers in the Night_ (in her head at night, when she couldn't sleep; or when she got bored at recess or in Gym class), and was pretty sure she had it down.

Glaring at the windscreen, as they hit the main drag, Lorna grabbed her cat toy and sat still glaring out the windshield. Pryde had heard the story already: a boy at school she'd thought was pretty neat had turned out to be not so neat, he'd called her a really mean name and had made her cry, and when they'd seen her crying, the other kids had only had smiles and giggles. None of them had come to put an arm around her and say, "He's just the meanest thing, pay him no mind, dear."

By break, when she'd caught the story, Pryde hadn't wanted to bring it up with her older sister, worried she might start her crying again, or royally humiliate her.

"Joy said you've a wife," Pryde recalled, suddenly. "Said she saw her. You two had an argument. You really have a wife?"

"Ex-wife," Lyle replied. "We're divorced."

"That's no good," the girl said.

"I think it's done a lot of good, for her. We weren't really a good match, in the first."

Pryde pulled a face. "Didn't you love her?" she asked.

"Perhaps I did, for a time. I guess I still care about her, in a way, but I'm certainly not in love with her anymore and I've a fair idea she feels the same way. She's engaged to another fellow."

"I think that's just rotten!" Pryde declared.

"Oh, no, it ain't," Lyle told her. "You say that now, young lady, because you're young and you still think love should be a pretty straightforward matter. I can tell you, it's anything but straightforward, even if you do happen to meet someone who feels the same way about you that you do about them."

"That sucks!" Pryde pouted. "Love isn't dead!"

"No, of course not. But you're a child, Pryde, the sort of love you imagine, reliable, unwavering love, where no matter what comes up, it could never drag you apart because you're in it for the long haul; when you get older, it's not the same anymore. There's other stuff to consider, and it isn't always understanding or companionship. Sometimes, it hasn't got a thing to do with your heart, just about stuff you reckon you want, about you. Forget what's written there in the bitty bottomest bottom in your heart of hearts, all that's in the past - you're young and alive, the world is yours and you must have it."

Pryde rolled her eyes. "I won't be like that. I'll still value friendship and equality. A real loving relationship isn't just about one person, it's about two people who find they really can't do with anyone else, they just want to stick together."

Lyle smiled at her. "Mmm. That's just what I thought at your age, darl."

Pryde shook her head solemnly. "I ain't gonna be no player, mark my words!"

Lyle laughed. "Duly marked."

She nodded. "I'm gonna be some dependable lady. A real dependable lady who's gonna love her man. And I ain't gonna play around. Let those other girls do what they please. I'll pass up that wagon, thank you." She glanced at her older sister, who was still glaring at the window.

"What if he goes and cheats on you, smartie?" she snapped. "What you gonna do then, Pryde Joan Della Pickett?"

"That case," Pryde replied, "he won't have been the only fool. Ain't gonna kick my brother when I should be kickin' myself, too. Let the brother do his thing. We each gotta go after our own happiness, sister. I'll jus' go on my way, lookin' for my happiness again. He weren't my true happiness, I was overtaken by sadness, loneliness. I was a fool and I backfired on myself. True happiness takes longer than that."

Lorna rolled her eyes, sniggering.

"It does," Lyle agreed. "But first impressions aren't always wrong; even when you think you must have been totally stupid for thinking so, it just takes a while to see how right they are. Sometimes we just know these things."

"I am going to be ill," Lorna muttered, in a monotone. "If you two don't mind, give it a flippin' rest! Your wife left you, mister!"

"She did us both a favour," Lyle told her.

Pryde frowned, nodding. "Don't give up," she told him. "I believe love is out there."

"Isn't that supposed to be the truth?"

"Same thing," she answered adamantly.

.

In the diner, Pryde played _Oh My_ by Gin on the jukebox, scribbling down answers to her Geog homework in her exercise book. Joy shot her a very _WTF!_ look. What in the name of Arizona was she playing? Was that _country_?

Looking up from her homework, Pryde made the peace sign with her fingers and told her, "I believe in love, baby!"

Lyle laughed, patting her arm. "Kids are the best."

Lorna drew a quick picture of a hanging man and held it up for Lyle to see.

He frowned, shaking his head, and got up to go around the table and talk to her quietly. Her eyes widened. "Really?" she whispered excitedly, drawing a glance from her younger sister.

"Really," Lyle told her.

She grinned. "Sweet!"

"What did you say?" Pryde asked, unimpressed.

Lorna's eyes got big and she smacked his arm. "No!"

"Sorry, darl," he replied.

Pryde poked her tongue out at him.

"We'll let you come along, if you like," he added.

"Nope. I don't reckon I do," she told him. "I'm keepin' my eye out for Mr. Right. I ain't got the time."

Lorna and Lyle cracked up.

"Sceptics!" Pryde muttered. "Don't know what you missin', kids."

They only laughed harder.

"Who knew I was such a comedienne," she mused. "I-I-I rock!"

Lorna writ something down on other page, beside the hanging man, and held it up for her sister to read: _My sista is mad! Rock with it, rock chick! Keep on believin in love, chick-a-dee. Might just turn out you chose the right side, after all! Love ya, lil sista! KEEP ON DISHIN OUT THAT __INSPIRATION__!_

Pryde smiled. "Damn, my girl's one undiscovered Spelling Bee Champ!"

"U-u-uh-huh!" Lorna agreed, singing along to the song someone had put on.

.

It had been months, almost a whole year, five months, and still Emily wasn't sorry she'd chosen Eric.

She'd made her farewells with her family, sad but joyful, too, with the promise to ring. No matter what she had on, she always made sure to ring once a day, stay in touch.

She couldn't have been more happy; she loved Eric and he loved her. They'd gotten engaged three months ago. It didn't even bother her that the name she'd be changing to Eric's wasn't her own, as long as she was with him. She looked forward to the day they had a little family of their own; the thought brought a happy smile to her face whenever it popped into her head.

The new doctor at the clinic where Eric worked, Dr. Mary Craig, was celebrating her 29th birthday today and she thought she'd drop by with a little gift. They'd been out with Mary a few times for dinner. New to town, her local knowledge had been a little lacking. Emily and Eric had been more than happy to lend a helping hand and assist her in feeling more comfortable in her new city in any way they could, plus, it had been fun for them all.

As she strode through the foyer, Emily noticed that her new favourite song, _What a Feeling_, was playing, and smiled, feeling lighter and more confident, already. She thought she'd really done good with Mary, maybe even made a good friend. She was pleased the way her life was going, though she couldn't be with her family. She finally had a life of her own, and she was finally willing to move on it.

She felt great.

Passing by her fiancé's office, she smiled and kept on walking. Mary's office was further up. Mary didn't take patients on Monday, but she knew she'd be in. She had a lot of stuff to catch up on, she'd said; Emily didn't doubt it. She'd just started working in a bookstore, herself. Part-time, but nonetheless. Eric made a good living from his work; he'd told her "no sweat". They'd have a family soon; then, all her time would be taken up with the baby. In a big house like the one they lived in, he imagined the housework would be enough to keep her preoccupied for days; it would have done him. He was understanding like that.

Seeing that Mary's door was ajar, Emily placed a hand on the door and pushed it open, ready with a bright, "Happy Birthday!"

The words never left her mouth.

Mary wasn't alone, nor was she with a patient.

She was with Eric.

Emily couldn't believe what she was seeing. She tried to make up reasons in her mind that would look, well, that would look better for Eric than things looked right now. M-Mary had forced herself on Eric! It had been Mary! But, even as she stood there, she saw that Eric wasn't pushing Mary away. In full view of Emily, and half the hall, Mary and he were making out, pressed against Mary's new-but-old filing cabinet, hands going places Emily didn't want to think about.

Calmly, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the door as she'd found it, ajar. She didn't want Eric ending up on the wrong end of his manager, after all; didn't want him losing his job. Very soon, he'd be losing something far more precious. He'd be losing her. She didn't intent on sticking around when he behaved like that. What was more, she couldn't help feel like she'd been a fool, like she should have seen it coming.

Well, maybe he didn't think losing her would be too bad as long as he had Mary to fall back on, but he'd be sorry when Mary left him for someone new. Suddenly, she felt like a complete and utter imbecile. She was such a bloody fool! She'd really thought Eric was her man. She'd loved him!

She _still_ loved him. But not good enough was not good enough.

Besides, she thought, tears muddling up her vision as she walked, who was to say Mary and Eric weren't really meant to be. If she stayed, then, she'd just be selfish. It looked as if Eric had already chosen who he was _really_ meant to be with.

Shaking her head, she pushed open the clinic door, her hot tears finally coursing down her face. She fled, to the car, overwhelmed. She didn't know what to do. She hurt. She really Goddamn hurt. Eric had hurt her, and Mary had helped him. Mary, who she'd thought a friend. Eric, who she'd thought her lover, her _fiancé_!

She could have given him second chances into next year; could have written it off on a moment of weakness, blamed herself for not stepping in, for forcing them to spend so much time together when they really needn't have. Stupid! She'd been so stupid! She'd been a real idiot, thinking she could have them both, Eric and Mary. The loving fiancé, soon-to-be devoted husband, _and_ best friend! She'd been a _fucking idiot_!

And she could go on thinking that way, goodness knew she wanted to, into eternity, but that was not the adult thing to do. The adult thing to do was to walk away. She could have taken something on the side in revenge, but she didn't believe in that. She'd only wanted to love Eric, the man who'd stolen her heart and Healed her brother, who'd given her brother back his life and given her a new lease on life!

Eric.

How could he not see that?

With shaking hands, she reached for the car keys. She hadn't signed up for another game, for make-believe; she'd signed up for real. As much as she loved Eric, she just couldn't do this! Not this! She wasn't her brothers.

It killed her, but she had to accept the fact. She couldn't do _this_! Maybe it was only because it was real, what she felt was really, honest-to-goodness _real_. Maybe that was what made it impossible.

She- she just couldn't.

Eric would live.

She wasn't sure how well she'd fare.

.

She left him a note, she didn't just up and leave with no word. She didn't want him thinking the aliens had taken her; that would possibly be too kind. Besides, were that the case, she still might have been in the running to meet a nice alien guy, which definitely _wasn't_ the case. He was a jerk, he'd fucked up her belief in love. Total jerk.

_I'm sorry, I can't do this_, she wrote._ I can't lie any longer. Maybe that's poetic justice, eh? That I get a taste of my own medicine back. I lie to you, Mary invites you into her office for some good old-fashioned teamwork. Pardon me, I mean snogging with-hands! I deserved that, I'll admit. Now, I set you free. You get what you deserve. Whatever makes you happy, baby. Be free, be happy. Give me time, I'll wipe you from my memory. I'll live again._

_Unfortunately yours in love, J._

She really didn't care what he made out of that, out of her "lie". On second thoughts, she might have cared, just a little bit. She hoped he took every wrong idea out of it in the bloody Goddamn book!

When Eric finally got her note - she'd left it on the kitchen table; kinda hard to miss, if he ate, at all - as she knew he would, he tried to ring her.

She switched her cell phone off. No, she wouldn't be giving into a moment of weakness. After all, she'd only murder it. Eric did it so well, she couldn't think she could compete with that, even if she had a lifetime to perfect her art.

She posted her engagement ring back, in the next town, with a little note: _Make Mary happy; girls love shiny things. Unfortunately, you killed that for me. I don't think I wanna be a girl anymore. A quick word of advice: If you want Mary to stay, make it mean more than the price tag._

_Yours no more, J._

Then she hit the road again, knowing that whilst it felt as though she was doing to most stupidest thing, the most wrong thing she'd ever done in her life - giving up Eric to Mary without evening landing in a few punches, herself - it really was the right thing to do.

Competition and conflict might have made good plot devices in popular fiction and _telenovelas_, but in real life, they just sucked.

Or maybe it was just her.

Shit like that just didn't appeal to her mojo much. It could happen that way, she supposed, when she'd been living in la-la land for as long as she had, dreaming that things like family actually meant shit to regular people anymore, as they had to her when she'd been a little girl.

It was time to grow up, finally.

Maybe even one day, she'd thank Eric for that. (Mary, too.) For really opening her eyes, for forcing her to see beyond her unremarkable, run-of-the-mill childhood fantasies! What a fool she'd been! And, oh, how funny was that!

She didn't know where she was going, she just knew she had to go. There was no turning back now.

She left her cell phone off.

.

"What did Lyle say to you, back at the diner?" Pryde asked her older sister, at home in their bedroom.

"Said he'd teach me to drive when I turn fifteen," Lorna replied proudly. "Don't want me goin' on and gettin' myself in trouble like so many young people today do. Get their license and a short while later, get dead." She nodded. "When you're older, sissie boo, maybe I can teach you to drive, too."

Pryde popped another chocolate peanut from the bowl on choc-coated TV mix into her mouth. "Uh-ah! My man's gonna teach me that."

"Whatever makes you happy, girlfriend!" her sister replied casually.


	2. Chapter 2

**Additional Disclaimer:** I don't own the song _Defender_, performed by Gabriella Cilmi.

.

Toby shook his head, throwing Carrera a dark glance. That Empath really was too much! Starting trouble in town; man, the Pickett woman had damn near threatened to have the cops come down on the weirdo's creepy ass if he didn't stay away from her kids, and now, just because they'd smashed his dumb radio that didn't even work in the first place, he was hiding out in his car rather that joining them in the teamhouse. What kind of a person could really prefer sleeping in a car to a real bed?

Toby grinned. Some Empath the dude was, too, cos he'd seemed to have failed to notice what was wrong with his car. They had better wake him and get him up to speed, he supposed. Plus, it would be pretty funny to see his dumbfounded look. Let him play I-don't-see-shit then.

They'd all just about had it with the freak, anyway. He wasn't a real Reaper, he didn't get their type, and they were darn sick of him. They wanted a _real_ teammate, not some crappy phoney! Why they even bothered calling it Teamhouse D024 made no sense, at all, when it should really have been called Fakehouse D024!

Toby took a moment to admire the car's new paint job, specifically the neat work the brake fluid had made of the paint job, causing it to bubble and blister unpleasantly, and rapped on the car window loudly. When that weirdo hit the roof, and he _would_, after this, they'd finally be rid of him! Toby was almost ready to laugh with relief.

As usual, the Empath didn't do what they expected him to. He didn't cuss or go off, he just started crying. That really freaked Carrera out, but Toby was just struck dumbfounded. Man, that was hil-a-rious! There was something seriously wrong with someone, when, at fifty, they broke down in a bawl fest over something like that!

The grin wiped off his face when Jonas came out to see what the big fuss was about. Surveying the whole big mess, he didn't look happy, at all. Toby wasn't that big of an idiot. He knew not to mess with Jonas. It was fun toying with the Empath, but folk just didn't mess with Jonas, because Jonas bit back, and he had the teeth to back him up.

.

"I have no idea who would have done something like that, sir," Toby reported. "It doesn't seem to make sense, why anyone would do somethin' like this... Well, it just don't make sense, sir. What's it get them? I mean, it's just some piece of old rust bucket automobile. I don't think it was very nice- I don't think it's very nice, and I'm hurt that someone would... shit, that they'd do something like this, but I'm just not seeing- Sir, that's just not the way we work, here. I ain't seein' any motive here. I've a fair idea it was some o' them town folk. Brother's been makin' himself unpopular; it's bound to come back to him, isn't it."

Carrera merely added, "We came out, and it was just like that. Just like that. I wager it's been like that a while."

A spark of a grin flashed in Toby's eyes. "Not to sound like a bastard, J, but don't you think it's possible he done it himself? They say he's not all there, if you know what I mean, after all; a little cracked. May be, he's lookin' to whip up some trouble 'round here. May be, he likes that sorta thing, bein' an Empath an' all."

Jonas's eyes held clearly the impression that he wasn't remotely impressed. With that, he turned and left.

Toby shot a glance at Carrera. "What?" he asked, shrugging innocently.

"I told you it was a bad idea," Carrera merely hissed, careful to keep his voice low so that there'd be no chance of Jonas overhearing.

"Don't sweat it, bud," Toby told him. "The Empath knows damn well who done it, and that's exactly what I intended. I'd like to see the little freak take me on! I'd rip shreds off him! Mincemeat! That's what he'll be, after I've done with him! He ain't gonna try anythin'. Trust me, he's not that brave. Or dumb shit foolish. He's just gonna crawl off and beg the bosses for a transfer, like the creepy little critter he is! You'll see."

Carrera shook his head. "I still say this was a bad idea."

"Shit, man, you know any idea of mine is bad idea!" Toby grinned. "That don't mean it ain't gonna work, bro."

.

Friday, he'd stopped going into the diner. He made sandwiches instead, took them to town for his lunch. No more coffee, done with the stuff. Didn't need the extra hurt. He was no longer a part of Mel's life, he'd made that decision _months_ ago. Mel had never needed him; he'd been the dumb shit needy one. Mel made do fine on her own, with her own bunch.

He left the car back at Rare Blood, walked into town. He'd need to see about some things; the car needed work. The walk wasn't so bad; an hour and a half, could have been worse. It gave him a great opportunity to really take in the scenery, get some fresh air. Not a lot of farming out here, this side of town, not a lot of cars travelled this stretch of road.

It was time to give up living in the past, time to give up believing he could be nothing but just like the rest; he wasn't like them, he didn't belong with them. He'd never just be able to make friends like them. He wasn't even responsible enough to be a parent; most kids shot him funny looks when he treated them like they were equals, people, too. Shit, sure, they wanted adults to _get_ them, but when they did, sometimes, they got peeved. Maybe they didn't want to be got, didn't want the flustering shit. Some kids got it, some just wanted to write their own rules, wanted that excuse; no-one gets me, I'm jus' tryna live my life, brother and sister; don't judge me. Treat them live they're equal, they don't know how to take it. Can't still act the fool, can't pull their thoughtless antics. Can't take it.

Just want to laugh along with them - who's got no bloody life, then? Get lost, get a life, don't interfere in ours.

But he wasn't a kid, he knew. He wasn't a kid and he wasn't a grown-up. But he was. It was just a case of _Take it as it comes, don't overreact, take your time, think about it: implications, different angles_, he told himself. _Is it real, what you're feeling? Did you glean, along the way, that it was what was expected? Is it wise?_ Perhaps that was the wisdom of age. The ability to think in more than just one direction, to look both back and forwards; to think outside one's self...

Did it really matter, the problem with his car? He could fix it, in time. Did he need to be anywhere right this instant? No. The fact was, he had the time. Where he had to be, where he wanted to go, he could walk to. Fixing up the car would give him something to do, something that was something more than just... just existing, drifting. A purpose, for a little while. Maybe that was what counted. He had a purpose.

Yes, surely that was more important than anything. That he should not just feel... useless... as though, in honesty, there was no point to him just... existing. He was still a part of something, still one of the living. He had a life. Something good could come of even the worst circumstances, surely, and his circumstances, really, compared to that of others, weren't really that hard. To those people, that was just how life went for them; to him, oh, it was _so_, so upsetting. It was time, he decided, to grow up, to get a perspective.

He could do that. Right?

_Perspective, babe! You can learn to live with anything, so long as you live._

.

When he heard Gabriella Cilmi's _Defender_ playing from inside a clothing store he was passing, he steeled himself and didn't cry. "_...Now until forever; you will never, be alone..._" Mel had never asked him to be there for her, and he never had been, not really. Never honestly. She had herself; she had others, people who cared about her honestly. That got up in her face and said, "Listen, you, I care. And you answer...?"

That had _never_ been him, ever the conceited creep. 51 years = Got you shit all, you. Got yourself shit all.

Humming _Cindy, Oh Cindy!_, he kept walking. Give it some time, maybe he'd feel differently; maybe he'd be able to start again. People went through phases; p'rhaps, it was just one o' those things. A phase.

Tomorrow, or in a week, a month, years down the track, he'd bounce back and it would be okay. It wasn't as though he was going anywhere. He had the time. Why not take it?

Maybe he'd learn something about himself. Learn something about living, about patience. Do him some good.

.

As he was walking down the street, watching the shopfronts, a car driving beside him slowly honked. "Get in the car, honey!" a woman called out, exasperated.

Emily.

He almost sighed and rolled his eyes, almost said, "Are you kidding me!"

Emily pulled up at the curb.

He opened the front door and sighed. "Problems?"

"Cheating fiancé. Correction, ex-fiancé." She took her hand off the steering wheel and showed him the back of her hand, indicating the ring she _wasn't_ wearing. "Guess I, as a regular person, just couldn't hope to get him the way another medical professional can!" she relayed, sarcastically, adding a smile, at the end. "Get in; I'll take you for a spin. It's new."

He sighed, and stepped back from the car, closing the door. "I'll survive, ta. You should get back to your family. It isn't safe for you here."

She laughed. "I don't want to go _home_! Home! What a joke! I don't have a home. Never have had. I thought you could help me learn to understand my thing."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

She pulled a face. "Can't, or won't?"

"It isn't safe. You should go," he repeated.

"I checked the diner. You weren't there. How come? What's your game, this time? Didn't see that old heap of junk."

"Out of order," he replied vaguely.

She nodded. "Uh-huh. Are you sure you don't mean, 'taken off the road, by order of the authorities', or 'sent to the naughty corner, for bad machines'?" she joked.

"She's a fine machine; she's just taking a day off to relax, spend some quality _me_ time. Got to take care of her self-esteem, too. Wellness comes from looking after your mental health as well as your physical health, after all."

"It's a machine!" Emily stated.

"_She_'s catching her beauty sleep."

Emily rolled her eyes. "She's broken down! Gone bust! Bung!"

"It's a momentary phase."

Emily nodded. "Just get in the car. We'll talk."

"_I'm tired of talking_," he replied, in Portugese.

"Come again, monster?"

"Tired," he muttered, and walked away from the car.

She huffed, driving after him. "I need coffee!" she told him loudly. "Coffee costs money. I don't got no money! Buy me a coffee, hey?"

He sighed and stopped, turning back to the car. "Pull over and stretch your legs," he replied. "Come for a walk. I'll buy you a coffee, then."

She parked the car along the street, glancing around for any parking signs indicating possible parking restrictions. Nope, nothing. She killed the engine, grabbed her sunglasses and handbag, and got out. Hit central locking. Joining Lyle on the footpath, she said, "That wasn't Spanish cos, that, I speak. So what was it?"

"Portugese," he replied, heading off along the footpath.

"We're not going to the diner?" she asked.

"No."

She let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, good." After a couple of minutes of silence, she voiced, "So, what, no I-told-you-sos?"

"I don't catch your meaning."

She rolled her eyes, snapping on a pair of sunglasses which she'd just dug out of her new, ultra the-latest-_It_-thing handbag. "Eric," she muttered.

"Wasn't interested."

She laughed. Sure. Sure.

"True story."

That put a frown on her face. "Yeah?"

"_Da_."

"Is that your thing?"

He glanced at her sideways. "Pardon?"

"'True story'. Is that what you say?"

"I just did, didn't I," he replied.

"You didn't get it from someone else?"

"This is of relevance how?"

"It's just a question," she said. "So is it yours, or...?"

"William. It's what William says. 'True story, honey love.' 'This is me, rolling my eyes.'"

Emily frowned and lowered her voice. "Jarod says that, too," she said, almost mouthing it. "Sometimes." She sighed quietly. "You mean Raines, right?"

"I don't mean Willie, if that's what you're getting at. Yeah, I mean Billy." He smiled.

She shrugged, giving her shoulders something to do. They felt tense, tired. "How's your arm?" she asked.

"All better," he replied.

She nodded, looking around them. "So how are you taking it out here? It's pretty desolate."

"Oh, not so much." He nodded up ahead. "Black, two sugars?"

"Spot on."

"Oh, thank goodness. I can still get something right. And you. How are you?" Reaching the café, he opened the door for her.

"Alive," she said, as she stepped inside.

He reached over and rested the back of his hand against her cheek, for a moment.

She rolled her eyes. "Am I right?"

"Alive," he answered.

She nodded, smiling, _Knew it!_ written brightly in her green eyes. Then she stepped closer and just put her arms around him. She didn't know why, she just felt like hugging someone, at that moment. Even with all of the stupid stuff he said, all of the silly antics, the over-the-top "You're cute", "Let's get together some time" bullshit, shit he never really meant, anyway, stuff he seemed to believe might, in her eyes, detract and distract her from noticing the intense annoyingness he felt whenever she was around, she didn't real a bit uncomfortable. She thought for sure she'd have felt some kind of repelling force, given that he'd tried to kill her, even killed her brother, but no.

She actually felt kind of... comforted.

He laughed, brushing his cheek with a hand. Searching for something to say, she imagined. Enough was enough and now he had to give her a reason to hate him anew, lie to himself all over again, a reason to believe he wasn't that person, that person who could care for someone else, just because.

She wanted to say, "Just one more minute", but the fact that she'd have to say it at all spoke volumes. He didn't believe he could be that person, not with her. He didn't want to be that person with her. Enough was enough, she had no reason, no right, pushing him.

She smiled, too, stepping away from him. "Just kidding," she said, a little laugh in her voice. "I still hate you like Hell."

She took his hands up in her own, smiling still, and looked around her, for a moment. "I still hate you," she repeated, and let go of his hands, heading for a table by the window.

He caught her hand, before she could make tracks, and she turned back.

"Call your family," he said quietly. "Tell them how you are."

Her eyes got big._ Oh, shoot!_ She started to say something back, but he'd already dropped her hand, was already at the counter.

She trailed away, dropping into a seat by the window, and dug her cell phone out of her handbag. She looked up her mom's number and hit the green Call button. How could she have forgotten that? As the phone rang, she felt herself waiting, waiting; she'd be so happy to hear her mom's voice, she realised, be so happy to hear her loved one's voices, hear them laugh, hear that smile in their voices.

She tried to think of something funny to say, her mind racing wildly, but when the line picked up, she had nothing. She tried to inject some brightness into her tone and refrained from whispering, "I miss you. Love you."


	3. Chapter 3

"How are they?" Lyle asked, joining her at the table with these drinks. He placed the mugs down at the table; hers, in front of her.

"None of yours," Emily replied, shaking her head a little.

He walked away again.

She pulled her drink towards her and blew on it, taking an experimental sip. It wasn't too hot, not too cold. She took a proper sip. It was nice coffee. Not too bitter, nice and smooth. Much better than the blend the diner served, she thought.

A moment later, Lyle came back.

She eyed the apple pie.

"We needed something else. For the EFTPOS," he explained.

She shook her head and offered, with a sigh, "I'll have it." She gave him a frown. "You didn't get yourself one?"

"Diabetic, apparently," he answered shortly.

She grinned. "It must have been all those-" She laughed, a little. "They were special diabetic sweets, for low blood sugar," she clued on. She suppressed a sigh. "What's going on here? Why can't I seem to leave you alone?"

"Just a little experiment," he replied calmly. "I see it worked."

"You _are very bad_!" she told him, with complete seriousness. "It worked. Drop it, now."

He sighed, feigning tiredness. "All done."

She narrowed her eyes at him, sipped her coffee. "They're fine. I didn't tell them I'd broken it off with Eric. Didn't want to worry them. I might... forgive him yet. I might have him back, with a little honest persistent persuasion."

Lyle nodded to her cell phone, resting on the table. "Checking your messages might be an idea..."

She picked a bit of the crust off the slice of apple pie, ignoring him.

"I heard you turn it on," he said.

"You've got good hearing, then," she smarted.

"We do have."

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone and dialling the number to check her voice mail. "Nothing new," she said. "Cheap jerk. Only one message! Must be, he doesn't want me back." She pouted, tilting her head side to side. "Stupid boy."

He smiled, from across the table. "Might be, he's planning something special. A surprise apology."

Emily sighed, glancing to the top of her head. "Please, Eric's not that kind of guy. Flowers and balloons is the extent of special surprise, to him. Besides, I'm not so sure he's really that sorry. He didn't look sorry making out with Mary in her office." She sighed heavily, pushing away the memory, with some effort. "Might be, he's got a big head since his big performance with my brother," she posed. "Thinks, shit, he could have _anything_ he wants; why impose limits?"

"I must say, your confidence inspires me," Lyle replied, with a warm smile. "So Eric's out. Cross that one out. That doesn't mean you have to be. Don't give up, just because of him. It's one bad experience against... I don't know, many others that mightn't have ended quite the way you'd envisaged, but mightn't have been all that bad, in themselves. You don't give up, because of one hurtful setback. You go on, stronger than before, more determined in your cause, because you know, after you've been let down, how much you really want it. You're just as loveable as you ever were. Eric... he can go to Hell, for all he pleases!"

Emily laughed, putting a hand over her mouth. "Nice pep talk, big brother," she commented.

He nodded.

.

"You'll be right, getting back, without your heap of gar- your car," she amended, as they walked back to her car.

"I've got a ride with one of the guys."

"Making friends, then?"

"Yeah. You know me. Always."

She smiled, glancing away into the distance. "Can I borrow some of your confidence?" she asked.

"Go for it."

She laughed, running a hand through her hair. "I think I'll cut my hair."

He shrugged.

She met his eye. "You don't think it'd look stupid?"

"No. No. My imagination's not that good. Besides, I don't think there's anything that could make you look stupid. Well... no. Nothing."

She rolled her eyes. "Ridiculous, then," she rephrased.

"We all have moments like that," he shared.

"Argh! You're being deliberately difficult!" she burst out. "All I'm asking for is your honest opinion!"

He laughed. "Honest? Honestly? Honest and me, we don't get along so famously. Anyway, isn't it more important what you think, what it does for you? I'd think it was. Stuff what I think! What do you think?"

"Argh!" She huffed. "I think I'll ask Mom."

"What is it they say: indecision's not a girl's best friend?"

"Who says that?" Emily replied, annoyed. Oh, what a fibber! She'd never heard that one before.

"'Well, if that girl's afraid of making a fool of herself, I'd say she wouldn't count indecision as one of her friends. I'd say she sit down and give some thought to it before blurting out whatever struck her. That's what a smart girl would do. Or a girl who wanted to appear smart and _really_ together. Girls like that are always popular."

Emily sighed heavily. "That girl's just not me. I'm a stupid, blab-my-mouth-off-when-I-should-just-shut-it, eats-too-much, paints-her-silly-feelings-too-loudly-on-her-face kind of girl!"

"But she's a great girl, that girl," Lyle told her. "Sure, she's got room for improvement, but who hasn't? It just means she's invested and willing to learn, means she wants to live, get that experience, improve herself. May be, she find the right boy, they'll help each other. After all, isn't that how it's supposed to go? So you see, she's a great girl! She's got spirit, she's got guts, and, most of all, she's human!"

He patted her arm encouragingly. "You're too hard on yourself. Ask your mom, I'm sure she'll say the same thing. You got to lighten up to really see, really appreciate the brighter side of life. You're down and gloomy, you just... you'll wish your life away and get nowhere, you'll start to resent anyone who's got a smile on their face. Let go, for a few hours. Give it a shot, what've you got to lose."

"Plenty," Emily muttered darkly.

"Just that gloomy tone and adorable, little glower," he replied.

She scowled at him, crossing her arms stubbornly.

He smiled. "Give it some thought. You can work on it, work up to it. Most of all, you've got to believe it. Believe in yourself. The power lies inside you. You buy something yourself, you find you like it, it doesn't seem like it'd be so hard to sell it to others, if that need ever arose. When they start believin' in you, you'll feel it inside, _I can really do this!_ That's a feelin' you wanna hold on to. Anythin' else anyone else's done before, you can do it, too. Believe it."

"I'm not buying it," Emily mumbled. "Got 'nything else in the same range?"

"Take your time. It doesn't perish. It'll still be there, you look for it hard enough, tomorrow, the day after. It never really dies; it never really leaves you. You just stop looking. Don't stop looking, you'll find it. You'll get there, in the end."

Emily made a face. "What if I get old, taking my time, and my eyesight's not what it used to be?"

"Don't worry, this is something you don't need eyes to see. You'll feel it, inside, like your heart beating. Sometimes, you hardly even notice it's there, other times, oh, you notice. You notice."

"I'm not noticing," she replied, stopping and turning to him.

"Take it easy, chipmunk. What's the rush? There's no hurry. What's there today, will still be there tomorrow."

"Chipmunk!" Emily muttered unhappily, patting down her hair self-consciously.

"Mmm. You're always skittering-scampering to a new worry; you don't take the time to properly examine the one you've just left behind, to allay your worries. You're always onto the next worry, and the next. Then, one comes up you've encountered before, and you're back where you began. You come over as a pot full of worries, worry pot. Some people, they just like to stir your pot up a bit."

Emily began humming loudly. "What's that you say?" she asked loudly, patting her leg in time to the song playing in her mind.

He laughed. "You're such a little sister! Never you mind, little sister, you've always got big brother. And that's him now, I believe," he added, nodding.

She grabbed her phone out of her bag. "Yep! Ah-ha!" She laughed. "Mom said. How are you? Oh, well, that's great. Yeah. Yeah! I'm great." She pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Eric and I broke up. I haven't- Yeah. I haven't told Mom, or anyone else, yet. Me. Me. No. It wasn't- I'm fine. I guess I- I thought I was ready, but... but I'm not. Not yet. I- He's stopped ringing me. Yeah, well, it's on. You rang me." She made a face, frowning eyes. "I'm not like that, you know that. Of course I bloody well thought about his feelings, Jar! I'm _doing_ this _precisely_ because I thought about his feelings! I can't lie to him like that! I can't live a lie like that! N- No! No, I couldn't even think about telling him! Shit, why not? Because it's not just my life on the line, you nim-wit, that's why! Oh, give it- Give it a rest! I'm hanging up now! I'm hanging-" She snapped her phone shut, scowling at it. "Moron! Argh!" She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and dropped her phone back into her bag.

Rounding on Lyle, she said, "It doesn't live in me! Anger does!"

"Anger's a pretty regular human emotion," he told her. "Don't beat yourself up over it. Keys?"

She shook her head, digging around for her keys.

"Be sure and get back to your family safely now," he told her, nodding.

"Mom is going to laugh in my face!" she groused.

"Oh, bollocks!"

Emily scoffed. "Oh, _shut up_! Quit acting like you're so in love with her! It's vomit-inducing! You'll piss my dad off!"

He sighed "Your mom cares about you all. I think it's an admirable quality to have. You aren't bad kids. She's not a bad mother." He winced. "Maybe I'm jealous."

"Jealousy's not a boy's best friend," she lectured him.

"I know it," he said.

"Just so you remember!" she replied, heading off again, for her car.

He walked with her. "Don't come back again, okay," he said. "This is the end. We don't have to see each other again, after this. Goodbye, and really mean it, okay?"

She didn't look at him, just kept walking.

"Em? Really mean it, yeah?"

She rolled her eyes, walking ahead of him.

He sighed. "Alright." He dropped back, letting her go.

She walked on for a couple of paces, stopped and turned back. "Walk me to my car, idiot!" she snapped.

"Your car's just there," he said, pointing vaguely.

"Just where?" she scowled, glancing over her shoulder for no more than a second.

He walked over, begrudgingly, and grabbed up her hand, marching toward her car. "Just here!" He put her hand on the bonnet.

"They'll all laugh at me," she said, losing confidence by the second.

"Now you're just putting it on," he said. "You're working yourself up about bullshit. They won't laugh at you, you selfish girl!"

"They'll confuse me, make me think- I don't want to go back to Eric! They'll mess my head up!"

"Then don't listen to them."

"I can't help it," she whined.

"Help it!"

"I can't."

"Oh, stop. You're making a fool of yourself. Don't let yourself down now. You are strong."

She scrunched her face up. "No, I'm really not."

"You really are," he told her firmly.

She sniffed, for no reason, shuffling her shoe on the pavement. "Do I get a good luck hug?"

He rolled his eyes and held out his arms. "A good luck hug and then, you're on your way. Back to the people you belong with."

She shuffled over and put her arms around him. "I wish you weren't a lunatic," she said quietly.

"Well, unfortunately, I am, chipmunk. Lucky you." He patted her hair. "You go home now."

She nodded, sniffing, didn't really know why. "Say something stupid, will you?" she whispered, finally.

"God, I loved smackin' that ass!"

She laughed. "S-"

He cut her off. "Goodbye, you."

"Goodbye," she whispered, feeling him leaving her already. She took a step back, hating him for all of his stupid, little "experiments", for being plain mean. What sort of a person did that kind of thing, anyway?

Heckles, it wasn't even that she really believed he'd done anything; the excuse had just been a convenient one, convenient for dodging any uncomfortable truths. Nobody could honestly care about a person like him! Nobody sane, anyway. And crazy girls were just too much trouble. Especially for crazy boys.

Fuck, she could have ripped on her hair. What was wrong with her? He really was a crazy! And a grade A crazy, at that! What the Hell was she feeling sooky over, anyway! She was flipping out, losing her last semblance of... of nous, Hell!

The faster she blew town, so much the better for them both.

Uncurling her fist and revealing the key inside, she opened her car door and got in. She pretended to be checking her side mirror, but she was really sneaking a peek to see if he was gonna wait and see her off. He wasn't. He'd already walked off.

Pretending she couldn't feel that stupid lump in her chest, she started the engine and pulled out of the parking space, heading out of town.

From now on, life would be so much better.


End file.
